


Beyond my control

by allollipoppins



Series: Blood and Chocolate - YoI 2018 Valentine [4]
Category: The Boy (2016 Bell), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Barebacking, Bearded Victor, Dark Katsuki Yuuri, Dark Victor Nikiforov, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Implied Sexual Content, Kitchen Sex, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Katsuki Yuuri, Spoilers for Bluebeard's Wife, Stockholm Syndrome, Touch-Starved, Yandere Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 19:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allollipoppins/pseuds/allollipoppins
Summary: Nuptials: [nuhp-shuh l, -chuh l] of or relating to marriage or the marriage ceremony; of, relating to, or characteristic of mating or the mating season of animals.The morning of Valentine's Day in the Nikiforov Estate. (post-series)





	Beyond my control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baby_cinema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baby_cinema/gifts).



> Title & lyrics taken from Mylène Farmer's "Beyond my control". Translated from French.
> 
> "You dont really have a choice anymore  
> Our two bodies laying there  
> At sunrise they blend together  
> Then you have the eyes of an angel, my love"
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENZL4Dz1md4 (warning: nsfw music video)

The heart rested at the centre of Victor’s palm. While his fingers cradled it in an open grip, spread to accommodate the muscle better in his hand, it still looked to him as if it were threatening to slip between his fingers. Victor’s nails, while trimmed, could easily slice through the smooth surface if he pressed hard enough. The thin, nearly translucent membrane would give under pressure, pop like a bulb and spill its contents all over his arm, drenching him in blood.

Yuuri had underestimated the heart. The organ was much, much bigger than he had initially thought.

 

“I used to think that the heart was a small organ,” Victor mused, possibly unaware that he was vocalizing Yuuri’s thoughts. The older man was as focused as he was, holding the meat at arm’s length, his eyes fully trained on the way it almost wobbled in his hand. After a pause during which the tremor died down in his still palm, he smiled, turning to Yuuri.

“All the better. I was afraid that you wouldn’t have had enough to eat with only one, but that way we can share.”

 

It tugged at something tight inside him, such an open show of consideration. His meals have become progressively bite-sized, the result of an effort to stick by his training resolution, and Yuuri had now come to the point when it felt like his stomach could burst from a single spoon of rice or a bit of soup. And here he had been told that love left you hungry, thirsty for an abstract consistence that food couldn't come up to. That was why people like his Mama Katsuki were so big, because she had so much love to give. Victor pushed him to eat, of course, then relented, though not without admonishing him lightly on his “unhealthy” eating habits. So he agreed begrudgingly to "just one more bite" until he could feel crumbs obstructing his windpipe.

 

He set the heart back on the wooden board, blade sharpened and glinting at its side. “It’s a beautiful heart, Yuuri. Thank you.”

 

Yuuri ducked his head at the praise, waving it off. “It was nothing. I even got it with a discount.” What a change of dynamics. As per their established, unspoken rules Victor was the provider in their relationship, while Yuuri was the caregiver. It wasn’t unpleasant though.

 

Victor hummed in response, watching in concentration as the knife shredded milky white fat from the top of the meat, frowning when it caught and was deposited to the far end of the board. He wasn’t very fond of white. Most of Yuuri’s white clothes have been stashed away, or worse, torn apart and turned to rags. Another one of Victor's quirks he let pass. As if he saw in the colour something only he could perceive, something that scared him enough he believed it would possess Yuuri if he allowed it. Which was why he let Victor tear into white cotton and dress him in black.

 

“The butcher didn’t give you any problems, did he?”

 

Yuuri shook his head “None.” And true to his word, he hadn’t. If anything, the good man had been more startled by the presence of a foreigner, and by the request – hardly anyone ever ate offals anymore - for the particular organ to care much. Yuuri could go with that. His own mother hadn’t made him eat livers in ages, nor had she tried to mask their particular taste in a gyoza stuffing that was more herb and spices than proper meat.

 

Victor paused, tip of the knife poised over the heart. It had slipped underneath the membrane, part of the white tissue raised and stretched, not showing any sign of giving. Victor’s blue eyes flickered towards him again. “Really?”

 

“Really,” Yuuri assured him. It wasn’t a lie, quite honestly. Sure, the butcher’s daughter had crept a little too close to him when she was meant to stay behind the counter per her father’s orders, her fingers brushing Yuuri’s own as she handed him the meat in a plastic bag. But Yuuri had made it clear that he wasn’t interested, and that the purchase was closely linked to said disinterest. She – “Sharon”, or rather “Hi, my name is Sharon” as her name tag stated – had pouted but let the matter drop easily. Other than that Yuuri had nothing to complain of. But if he mentioned it he was certain that dear Sharon wouldn’t be there on his next trip to the village. If there ever were such a thing.

 

The pantry was filled to the brim, the fridge and wine cellar rich with all they could eat and drink. A feast only a few steps away, right at hand. Yuuri thought distantly of Chris, who’d had the grace of bringing the groceries up to the house before his rather...unfortunate passing. God Bless Chris, he thought to himself. A lazy smirk played on his lips, fading as he recalled the Swiss man’s lecherous eyes on him, always roaming up and down his body, his hands crawling over him as he grasped blindly for his throat. Today would have been his birthday, he remembered, the man having told him the date once in passing. An irony they’d had a laugh about, just as they had commented once on Victor’s birthday corresponding to Christmas. He shivered at the recollection, a gust of breath passing through his lips.

 

His sudden intake of breath didn’t go amiss. Victor’s head turned to him in the blink of an eye, so fast Yuuri wondered how that didn’t hurt, concern written all over his face. His grip remained firm on the handle, as if the knife that hovered in his right hand were an extension of the limb itself. Like the skin on this body, it was soft to the touch and callous at the same time, a polished armour of ragged and sewn parts. An antithesis of a man.  


“Yuuri?”

 

Victor had a few freckles on his cheeks and hands, the result of extended exposure to the scarce sunlight that sometimes shone through the clouds of English spring. They were disseminated everywhere, some in plain sight and others hidden underneath his clothes, dispersed over his long arms and legs and in the place where his heart rested under his ribcage. Often, Yuuri had mapped out the freckles that marred Victor’s skin, constellations and stars scattered here and there for him to find and count. There were always new parts of him to unveil, new things to rediscover.

 

“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice, while clipped, shook smoothly though he hid it well. A thinly-masked vibrato he wished to rip out of him more.

With barely a step between them, Yuuri raised his hand to Victor’s cheek, relishing in the slight gasp that escaped him. The blade fell onto the board, metallic blade clinking against wood and echoing in the empty room, like the distant call of a church bell.

 

Yuuri’s fingers ran through the coarse and prickly, tousled curls that had begun to grow back, feeling the ends press against his palm. They weren’t sandpaper-rough anymore, unlike the earlier days when touching Victor had felt like running his hands through something akin to barbed wire. Victor inhaled sharply under his touch, the muscles under his face stilling. And yet he leaned in. Slowly, Victor's thumb caresses his hand, drawing circles between his thumb and forefinger. He brushed his lips to Victor’s cheeks, feeling the rough hair pushing softly into the small cuts of his mouth without reopening them.

 

It fascinated him. He'd never seen a stubble from this close before. There had been Nikolai's rubbing against his cheek when he's hugged him for the last time, a motion he remembers dispassionately. Yuri had never grown a beard, courtesy of his everlasting reputation as "the Ice Fairy of Russia" mixed with incandescent youth, almost insulting and scathing. Toshiya Katsuki had never grown a beard either, fearing it would both age him and give him a bad image among their clientèle and friends – he'd also thought it gave him too much of a yakuza impression, but Hiroko Katsuki wouldn't have loved him any less if he had decided to grow one. Kind as she was, she didn’t think once that growing one would ever made him less of a good man.

 

This was different in so many ways. Yuuri silently marvelled at how soft Victor’s skin was underneath all that bristly hair, alabaster and nearly feathery to the touch, the porcelain had nothing on it, incomparable to anything Yuuri had ever felt before. It kept its roughness, hard-earned but oh so sweet. The touch of a man, whose large frame swallowed whole his lither one, with big hands calloused from work possessively draped on his hips, and arms on his waist that could lift him in a heartbeat, without once breaking a sweat. And Yuuri felt as Victor embraced him in this familiar embrace, ethereal and seemingly never-ending. For the time-being, he doesn't want to leave. There was something incredibly soothing about feeling protected and shut out from the rest of the world, never having to say goodbye. Only mornings and nights passed by them, between them. And here he was. Here they were.

 

The weeks that had passed with them had considerably altered their intimacy. After the tentative first touches had come the hesitance, the slower pace that never failed to come after the high. Suddenly they were back to themselves, except that they were together – navigating the same space, sharing air within rooms that scarcely saw them separated from each other. Practically joined at the hip, given how Victor never strayed away, fingers tugging at a sleeve or wrapped around a wrist. Like a small child hidden under his mother’s skirt.

 

Victor’s face had remained frozen the first time he had kissed him out of the blue, for no reason at all but to kiss him. It hadn’t been much, a barely audible peck on his cheek, his lips brushing against rough skin, his cheek feeling the hair that was starting to grow back. Even when Yuuri couldn’t see him from his angle, he knew none of the muscles underneath Victor’s face had twitched. And yet his entire being had trembled in his arms, startled by the soft, gentle kiss. His fingers and toes had flexed, before Victor had brought them closer by pulling on Yuuri’s wrists. His corresponding affection remained slow; for the most part he shifted around and subtly shied away from Yuuri whenever he did just that, and that had encouraged him to stop. But after going a whole day without touching Victor had come to him, hesitantly cupping his cheek and kissing it. He had pulled back, gazing at Yuuri with wide, clear eyes that had made him look so much younger. Like he was still stunned that Yuuri should even want to touch him, should wish to give him attention and affection. And oh, how he yearned for it.

 

And like time healed wounds, time brought them closer. Victor still demonstrated nervousness at times, especially when he was in need of help for things like trimming his beard or cutting his hair, but the underlying anticipation of feeling Yuuri’s hands on him, running through his long hair or patting his cheeks remained a constant. Serene as they were, having Yuuri close was a catalyst in attaining true calm. Victor almost didn’t need to beg, for Yuuri was too compliant when they ended up lounging lazily on the living room couch or snuggling together in the kitchen or the library.

 

They’d taken a walk in the gardens earlier, sometime before Yuuri had been under obligation to go down to the village to buy meat. Off they’d gone for a stroll in the gardens, exploring grounds that, in spite of their familiarity, always held something new for their eyes to find. They walked side by side, Victor’s hand clutching his smaller one, their arms dangling forward and backward in a motion that reminded Yuuri of swings flown on in the kindergarten playground. There were no playgrounds on the estate. No slide, no climbing frame, not even a meagre wooden plank hanged to a tree branch. But Victor leaned on regardless, balancing their arms and elevating them in the air, his grip tight on Yuuri’s fingers and his skin warm as their forearms brushed together. Yuuri smelt the morning dew and freshly-cut grass on him, the bloom of young roses cut into a makeshift bouquet and openly displayed in the rooms.

 

“You’re so good to me, Vitya” Yuuri whispered. “Why is that?”

 

Victor’s free hand rose to cup his jaw, fingers splayed on the side of his neck as his thumb came up to brush Yuuri’s bottom lip. Loose strands from his fringe fell over his left eye, though the way blue shone underneath his fair hair was unmistakable. His gaze never flinched from his own, eyes for Yuuri only.

 

“I thought I had made it clear. Or do you need me to tell you again?” In spite of the teasing tone that transpired even in the curl of his mouth, his voice didn’t rise an octave. If anything, it appeared lower than usual.

 

Yuuri leaned closer and, without breaking eye contact, brushed Victor’s thumb with his mouth and let his lips close onto it, a fish hungrily grasping at the hook. The copper taste that lingered on his finger seeped on his tongue, sucking in as others did for a pinprick. Victor inhaled sharply.

 

“How much longer do you need?”

 

Victor frowned, but understanding dawned on him when Yuuri gestured to the meat with a slight tilt towards the counter. “Not much. Cooking will take a while though.”

 

Yuuri hummed against his skin, sending vibration down the thumb that made Victor growl lowly.

 

“Be a good boy then,” Yuuri said, “and tell me again. Come here to me.”

 

They never made it past the kitchen table, too eager in their haste to consummate their union. Yuuri found that he didn’t mind so much, though the wood digging into his ribs was sure to leave coloured bruises next to the ones Victor painted on his skin, down his back and over his collarbone. It wouldn’t be the first occurrence anyway. Victor’s bed, which they now occupied, was once too big for a single boy, and was now much too small for their combined frames, even when he did relish their closure. Often he feared it might give under their combined weight, give the way his own threatened to in that moment, tights burning and aching.

 

Victor was, to Yuuri’s surprise, the least vocal of the two when it came to touch. Though he had never once shied away from sex, he seemed to find the intimacy of non-sexual encounters slightly more appealing. Yuuri mostly suspected that his Northern resistance had its limits, and more than he’d let on to play in their shared moments, but he never complained. Even when Victor snuggled up to him in bed, arms wrapping themselves so tight around his waist and ribcage the force of it woke him up at ungodly hours. It made leaving the comfort and warmth of the bedsheets so much harder, Victor holding him impossibly tighter and begging him to stay together a little longer, cosying up behind him. He had never openly admitted it, but Yuuri knew Victor relished it when he’d guide his hands over his body to make him feel and explore every inch of his bare skin. They would each set the pace until they could find common ground and take it all in, growing out of breath until neither of them could take it anymore.

 

Yuuri gasped loudly when Victor finally came, his cock pulsing inside him against his walls, and releasing spurts of warm seed that trickle down his tights as his own orgasm followed suit. Victor didn’t push back. He liked to stay inside him a little longer every time, always making the moment last minutes after they have been sated, relishing the way their bodies were still slot together like puzzle pieces, the slippery feel of him wrapped around Yuuri with only his cum and their sweat between them.

 

Yuuri whined when he finally slipped from inside him, his walls tightening around emptiness. Victor groaned as his come escaped his hole, trickling to the floor. Victor liked to look too. Even with Yuuri’s back turned to him he always found a way to turn him over, make his body gravitate towards his front in an almost instinctive pull, taking him in wholly. They had done it in the bathroom once, in front of the mirror, and even before his mother's vanity in an act of defiance that had aroused him much more than it should have. Yuuri had tried not to read too much into it, especially after Victor and him had thoroughly christened the entire house.

  
Victor reached for a clean towel on the table and dabbed at the place where they had been joined, the spots which he touched and brought to life with his hands and his lips only. Gently, quietly, as if afraid to break the moment. Only Yuuri's low hum broke the silence that settled in; along with the wet, short-lived kisses Victor pressed on his inner tights, his stomach, his chest, his neck, and his mouth.

 

Victor’s breath ghosted over the fingers of his right hand, kissing his knuckles one by one, his lips resting a bit longer on his ring finger. The warm breath burning over the golden circle was most welcomed in the growing cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Part four and last part of my dark Yoi Valentine series, that comprises 4 parts.  
> Each story is dedicated to a different, special person in my life, but in spite of that each of them is first and foremost a gift to everyone. Whether you are familiar with my works or you are a newcomer. Because romance is overrated and I love you all to bits :)  
> I don't think it surprises anyone anymore that my works shuld be overdue, and I truly apologize for the delay ^^' Though it is posted much too early for the occasion, I guess you could consider it a White Day present?  
> I had sworn to myself that the BW series would only comprise three parts, two of which remain incomplete to this day, but I couldn't resist writing this. I know it is probably very ooc compared to what you've read so far, and digresses from the general horror mood, but I'm a sucker for twisted happy endings and I simply couldn't resist... Hope you enjoyed the read.
> 
> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are always appreciated :)  
> I'm @allollipoppins on tumblr & @AriL10N355 on twitter. Hmu!


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